


A Lesson in Determination and Patience

by Nimravidae



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Era, Come Eating, Double Penetration, Exhibitionism, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Harem of Twinks - Freeform, Historically Inaccurate Sex, Intercrural Sex, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Overstimulation, Rimming, Sex Crying, Voyeurism, Wet & Messy, Ye Olde Kink Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7739137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimravidae/pseuds/Nimravidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benjamin wants something that Washington is reluctant to give, but with his blessing and the assistance of the rest of his lovers he goes about setting such events in motion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson in Determination and Patience

**Author's Note:**

> Heed The Tags

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, sir.”

Washington’s hesitation is palpable, thick in the air of the tent. Normally, should Major Tallmadge bring forth an idea of this magnitude to be met with such a thing, he would immediately rescind his idea. But through the tentative heat cuts a breeze of arousal in his commander's voice, which spurs him to straightens his spine a fraction more, hands curled at his sides. 

Benjamin has already seen Washington at his most vulnerable, stripped of his clothing and spread across his bed. Flushed with desire, sticky with sweat - pleading for a touch or for Benjamin to lower himself atop him. It makes it difficult, even in their full dress, to avoid witnessing the minute expressions that crack his stoic gaze.

He averts his eyes to better help himself.

It wouldn’t be as though he was asking much from his General - the components of what he wishes were there. They had lain together in carnal fashion so many times already - Ben had taken Washington into his body, had felt him deep inside of himself, so many times. To their momentarily shared bed, they had invited others.

Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton, Major General Lafayette - he’s mouthed along their cockstands and spread his legs for them and allowed their touch to the most intimate points of his body, and enjoyed it so thoroughly. He’s even had them both while Washington watched! Hamilton behind him, stroking his back from nape to tail while he swallowed Lafayette’s length down.

It was only when his body was aching and well-used that Washington pushed himself from his chair to press into his seed-slickened body. 

They had all rested so well that night, sweaty and filthy in a pile of limbs and panting breaths together. How could it be questioned that, with his eyes opened to the many possibilities that arise with the pairings of men, a spry young Major would wish for something more. Something new, something he has not been privy to try but the idea of which excites him on the cold nights where there is no one to warm his bed and he must soothe the ache of loneliness with his hand and mind instead.

And yet, it seems that Washington does not see the clear path that drove Ben to this inquiry, as he examines his own inkpot instead of looking directly at him, and asks exactly how Ben came to this idea.

“Have we not satisfied you properly, Major?” he asks, impassive eyes finally reaching up.

“I am satisfied by you and the companions we seek out - I only find this to be a task I have not accomplished. I wish to know if it can be done.”

“Those are the thoughts of a man who wishes to learn a new trade, not one who gambles with his body in a time of war where it is better put to use than to be rent apart.” Despite his disagreement, Washington’s shoulders give a fraction, and he sighs, “speak with the Marquis and Colonel Hamilton on the matter. Should they find themselves in the same agreement as you - we may.”

An excited shiver eeks itself into Ben’s limbs and he restrains himself from grinning wildly at the concession. 

“Of course, sir.”

“And,” Washington adds, quick and sharp, “at any sign of genuine distress, no matter at which point in the engaging activities, they  _ will  _ come to an end, and you shall not attempt to sway the parties to continue. Have I been clear, Major?”

Ben snaps to salute. “Yes sir.”

**_###_ **

It is late that night when both Colonel and Marquis have completed their most demanding tasks and could find a moment's respite inside the little rented cottage that the Marquis procured just when the winter camp was set and the first chilled winds began to howl. It is then and there that Ben finds them, already slightly unwound with wine and good company. It does not take him long to find them alone, explaining his desires and circumstance to the two men.

They share a look, one of certainty and a fond exasperation.

“The old man wants just the best for your health,” Hamilton tsks, pouring a goblet of wine for Ben - as though he can read the tension and anxieties that shake in his limbs, “but it can be done.”

Lafayette looks far more intrigued by the posed request, shameless eyes roving Ben’s clothed form, as though he could recall the familiar image of him spread nude beneath him. Or, with the darkness of his eyes, perhaps he could. 

The Frenchman nods as Hamilton passes the wine and ah - yes Ben’s hands do shake when he takes it. “It can be done, it has been done - with much time and oil, of course.” 

His hands are still trembling, even as Lafayette sets down his own drink and crosses the room instead, hands on Ben’s hips, tracing the curve of bone through his breeches. Yes, it seems, he does remember. He silences his shiver with a long drink.

“I would be honored to be a part of your desires, Benjamin, if you would have me.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly makes Ben laugh, thin and anxious in nature, but he doesn’t. He steadies the shake from his voice the best he can and instead replies, “who would deny you?”

A gloved hand comes to rest at his cheek, guiding him to a sweet, languid kiss. Benjamin sighs gladly into it and reaches for a place to set his cup before he is swept too far along. Luckily, Hamilton materializes at his side to take it and do it for him, though with selfish intent it seems, as he wriggles himself between the two men to take his own lips to Ben’s as well.

Neither men complain, Ben yielding beautifully to the second kiss and Lafayette seamlessly adjusting himself to mouth at the back of Hamilton’s neck instead. His knees tremble as Hamilton’s smart tongue presses past his lips - a familiar movement, a familiar mouth, a familiar hardness growing against his hip. 

When they part, Ben is starry-eyed and dazed, lips forming the words before he could think, “who would dare deny you either, Alexander?”

The firelight glints off the teeth in his grin, too beautiful to be terrifying.

A movement in Ben’s periphery alerts him to the shifting of positions - Lafayette’s hands circling ‘round Hamilton to cup and rub at the insistent bulge in his breeches. 

“No brilliant man could resist him,” Lafayette agrees, purring the sentiment into Hamilton’s throat as Ben steps forward to close the impossibly small space between them. The heat off Hamilton’s body soaks through his jacket as they trap him between themselves.

“Do you know,” Hamilton ask as Lafayette moves behind him, reaching for Ben as well, “the significance of practice in such matters?”

“I do not think he does, Hammie,” Lafayette says before Ben has a moment to respond, “I believe we must show him.”

“I agree my dear Marquis.” 

Ben’s blood thrums hot in his veins, four hands come to pull at his clothing before he can even rush and stumble to pull off his own cravat. 

It is hours later, tangled naked together, Hamilton strokes Ben’s hair, combing through the tangles with his fingers while Lafayette kissed the array of freckles on his shoulder. 

“He is still awake, you know. If you wish to go to him tonight to tell him of our agreeability,” he whispers, but Ben has no intentions of doing such a thing, unsure if he was right and Washington still remained awake.

Surely it was late, he would have retired to the comforts of his bed by now - but Lafayette nuzzles gently against Ben’s warm skin, “He is awake, my dear friend, he would not sleep if he knew what we have done to one another without extending the invitation for a nightcap.” The promise is punctuated by a bite, which leads Ben to muffle his yelp into Hamilton’s shoulder.

“Bruise him at your own risk, Lafayette.” Over Ben’s shoulder there is a muted smack and a huff of laughter, though not from Hamilton. “His Excellency only likes to see his own brands upon his men.”

Ben wants to interact, to swat and talk back, but he is so very tired, and Hamilton is so very warm.

“Hush,” someone says , as his eyes drifted closed, “you’ll wake him.”

He awakes alone, in a daze. His clothes are not where they were pulled from his body the night before and he’s left cold and nude in the bed of the Marquis. At first, he thinks this some cruel prank and fear twists itself up in his gut as he keeps the bedclothes wrapped close ‘round himself, but the fear doesn’t last.

There, folded carefully atop a desk, is his uniform. Gathered up from the floor and gently awaiting him - he flushes again in a quiet embarrassment. As intimately as he knows both men by now, the subtle, small ways they defy their ranks either military or social or - in Lafayette’s case, both - to treat him with such kindness surprises him. 

Though, it can be hard to explain why he shies away from Washington’s lips when he pulls him up from his knees, or curls inward, pink-cheeked and biting hard at his lip when Lafayette uses his mouth upon him. It is not a question of his doe-eyed inexperience anymore, but more the ache of respectability. 

It is but a part, he thinks as he begins to dress himself in quite the hurry, of why he is so attracted to the ideas that he put forth. It is pleasurable and lovely when they take their turns lavishing their attentions upon his body and turning him to little more than a pile of ash - but he longs to be, for lack of a better word, used. 

Taken.

Claimed.

Put back into his proper place beneath them. The thought alone stirs his body with want, but he cannot risk the time to calm himself so he thinks more of the oncoming snow instead. A wave of dread and disgust cools him enough as he ties his queue and smoothes his jacket down. 

No one questions his parting. It is still the very early morning, and he finds himself walking towards an unsure destination through the chill. Lips red and slightly swollen, cheeks flushed and muscles aching. His dear friends and bedmates at least had the soundness of mind to offer him a rag to clean the mess from his face and abdomen. He should return to his tent, he thinks, or clean the mess left between his legs more properly before the lakes become overrun. 

But he doesn’t, at least not yet.

He finds his eyes drawn instead to the lovely manor that is serving as Washington’s headquarters - searching the windows for any semblance of wakeful life but there is none. He cannot hide his disappointment - surely by now Washington must be dredging through his correspondence, or handling reports, or doling out the swift and righteous punishments for those who curse or otherwise defiled his ranks.  

Though he desperately wants to throw himself toward the building and alert him of the agreement made between them - it, like many things, must wait. 

So he returns to his tent and, instead, draws his fingers through the mess Lafayette left inside him. Biting his lip, he fits one and then two and then three slender fingers into his body. He curves them how he likes, how he was shown, imagining they are not his own - imagining they belong to a man made of steel and piercing eyes. 

He brings himself to his end for a second time that night, this time muffling Washington's name into his own shoulder. 

_**###** _

The next day brings Caleb and word from Culper Jr. 

The next day brings him a nasty bruise to his cheekbone and reports to give and a Washington so busy he cannot even spare a quiet moment to caress the injury in the way his eyes scream to. 

So he lies alone in his cot, for that night and the next - and the next.

There is little he can do, but wait with anticipation as a day unfolds into a week which unfolds into two. He worries that Washington has forgotten. Not forgotten him, but their discussion, as each man finds himself too busy to find pleasure in one another. Hamilton rides to bring word to another town, Lafayette finds himself entrenched with French officers, Ben attempts to hold together his ring, Washington attempts to hold together his army.

It’s nearly been three weeks since the first discussion of the hanging potential before Ben is summoned to Lafayette’s private quarters. Perhaps they had changed their mind? Perhaps they were no longer longing to assist him in these matters and they decided that Ben had asked too much. Too much from a man of his station, too much of those above him. 

He is to be reprimanded and told to be thankful for what he receives from the three of his bedmates.

He does not expect what is awaiting him.

“We’ve discussed your thoughts at great length with His Excellency,” Hamilton tells him as he pulls Ben back towards the bed - where Lafayette waits, indecent in just his breeches, “he has come to an agreement with us and we wish to offer it to you for your approval.”

Hamilton gets him all the way onto the coverlet before Lafayette descends to pull his boots from him, his body pulling away for just a moment at the impropriety of it. But the Frenchman does not yield, instead distracting Ben with talk.

“You will take us, and he will bear witness to the event - as he has before. Once we have finished and left you,” with his boots off, Lafayette moves to strip Ben of his neckcloth, with his lips pressed against the underside of his jaw, “sated, then he will have you.”

Hamilton's hands push his jacket off his shoulders and soon Lafayette is not the only one among them indecent. Ben is laid nude upon the bed, his legs spread and Lafayette’s head between them. He kisses at the juncture of each thigh and Ben bites his lip to hide a whimper. 

Though he knows he needn’t be quiet here - undisturbed as they are - he still can’t help himself. The fear of being caught, the fear of being too much, too needy and too loud is simply too frightening for him to consider. 

Ben’s eyes cast around, but he realizes they are the only three here, and the question comes before he can stop himself.

“Where is his Excellency?”

“He will be here. Shortly, even.”

“He is a very busy man, and we could not wait to begin the process of stringing you so far out with your pleasure that we summoned you here. And we wished to discuss more the technicalities of what we must do to you.”

Alexander continues between kisses to his jaw where he settles in behind him: “If you wish to take two men into yourself at once, we first must prepare you thoroughly. You will take one of us first, from there we will continue to prepare you before we will penetrate you with a second length.

“Who will I take first?” He gasps as Lafayette’s tongue wiggles against him.

“Me, I believe we decided. The Marquis knows more of this… task than I. It is best to have him prepare you as such - unless you prefer otherwise? Your comfort remains the priority, His Excellency has informed us that should he deem you too disturbed or injured we are to stop.”

Ben tries to answer, but the tongue against his hole is too much for him to form a coherent response. But it doesn’t matter much as instead, a knock sounds at the door and Hamilton must move to respond - being the only member of this tangle in proper dress still. 

He greets Washington at the door - out of Ben’s eyeline - and before he even is allowed to drink in the sight of the man, Lafayette guides him back onto his belly - rear in the air so that he may continue his lapping. 

“I see you’ve already begun,” he says flatly, “though I am relieved to find you have not finished. Continue, Marquis, do not let me interrupt.”

He can’t even crane his neck to see and a twinge of disappointment sounds in him - but it doesn’t linger as Hamilton returns, significantly less clothed than he was before. 

There’s a shuffle, and Ben finds himself straddling Hamilton’s thighs, pressing his cheek against his collar as Lafayette removes his mouth to instead press oil-coated fingers against his hole. Rubbing and teasing and occasionally kissing the tail of his spine. 

Lafayette's fingers are thin, so the first press of one into his already well-slickened and well-relaxed body hardly registers a burn. The second, spreading deep inside him makes him keen into Hamilton’s shoulder - half-aware he is the subject of a show. A play, with no lines or directions to tell him what to do.

But he can feel Washington’s eyes burning onto his back, tracing down the curvature of his muscle and bone to where Lafayette presses his tongue where his fingers push into him. “You will look so beautiful taking me into your body,” Lafayette tells him, “twice as much with me and Alexander moving within you. You are so tight around me, so very hot.”

Ben nearly huffs a half-hysterical laugh as the talk makes Hamilton’s cock twitch enough that Ben can feel it where it presses hot against his own stomach, but it’s swallowed up by a moan that bubbles when he curls the fingers inside him.

Hamilton pets him, slowly, while whispering more filthy things well within the hearing range of the General. Ben wants to see him, wants to see the look that settles on his face while Lafayette spreads him open and makes him twitch with pleasure. Is it the same passive, empty expression he gives the Generals that line themselves up before him? Is it warm, is it cold, is it fond? He must know, he must know how he feels watching him like this. Knowing what must come soon. 

Lafayette works him with three fingers, oiled enough to slick between his legs and nearly drip down his thighs.

“Up, up, Benjamin,” he says as he guides him - fingers not leaving his body - more towards Hamilton's chest as the man shifts down onto his back. Three hands shift and move him, someone reaches down to slick Hamilton’s length. 

The head brushes against his well-stretched hole, still so full, and he feels a sudden pang of fear. Perhaps this will not work, perhaps it will be too much and Washington will be, as he often is, right. His stomach clenches and he swallows thickly and tries to steel his suddenly frayed nerves. 

He wants this, he reminds himself, he’s waited for this night, this moment, for so long. He can’t shy away now, in fact the idea of denying himself the very thing he’s been striving for is nearly agonizing and he has to muffle the gasp of pure  _ need  _ into Hamilton’s flesh once more. Though it seems to be misconstrued as some other noise as the pair recoil slightly.

“It is not too late to deny this, Benjamin,” Lafayette whispers, “no one will think less of you.”

“No, no, continue, please. I need this, sirs, I do.”

“Very well.” Lafayette withdraws his fingers, but Ben is not left wanting for long as his slick hand comes up to steady his hip. Hamilton guides himself to Ben’s hole -  not teasing as he pushes up and into him. 

He has long since learned to not muffle his sounds of pleasure - groaning low and long, as Hamilton gasps so sweetly beneath him. He takes him to the hilt, so fully sheathed inside Ben’s body, and stares, half-lidded off behind Ben. Not to Lafayette, he knows, but past him. Where Washington remains seated silently. 

Quietly.

Fear trickles down Ben’s spine and he tenses, making Hamilton moan with need again and swat playfully at him, “stop that, or the fun will be over to soon.”

Sunken down so far upon his cock, Ben takes a few short, calming breaths - all of which hitch at once and prove themselves thoroughly pointless when slick fingers come to rest at his hole once again. Hamilton hums, Ben gasps and somewhere - far distant - a chair creaks with interest. 

At first, they simply rub, stroking where the two men are joined with a light touch as though he is preparing Ben for what is to come. When he slips the tip of the first finger alongside Hamilton’s cock, Ben shifts to press his forehead against Hamilton, breathing deep. It is not the farthest he has been stretched, he knows it is far from impossible but still remaining is the knowledge. 

Soon, soon enough he will hold the two of them inside his own body. A shiver races down his spine and Lafayette presses the finger up to the second knuckle, whispering soothing words behind him. 

Hamilton tries, but he is far too distracted, panting and squeezing his eyes against what Ben could only assume is unmitigated pleasure, to properly form words. And while Lafayette is soothing, Ben distantly longs for Washington’s voice. Washington’s words telling him he is beautiful, Washington’s eyes, Washington’s touch, Washington’s comfort. 

“Hush, my dear thing,” Lafayette says behind him, slowly working the singular finger along Hamilton's shaft, “he is there. He is watching with such rapt attentions, swollen with want in his breeches. I assure you, sweet little thing, he is here.”

Has the Marquis learned to read minds, or has Ben spoken aloud; he does not know, his lips part but no sound reports. 

“Have you grown accustomed enough to this?” He asks with a pointed shift in his finger, “So that I may add another?”

Yes, Ben wishes to say. Yes, yes,  _ yes.  _ He needs more, he needs the burn, the stretch, the sensation of being torn apart - yanked on one end by raw pleasure and the other by raw pain - all he can do is nod. Nod and plead with his body, arching his back and pressing deeper, deeper down upon the finger and the cock inside him and  _ keen.  _

Lafayette gives what he is promised, and two fingers inside him stretch him past what he knows, past what he’s done before and he feels - he feels - so full. So right at the moment, he sags down against Hamilton’s body. 

“Sir,” he manages, weak and desperate, “please, sir, please I need you. I need you to take me, rend me, I need you inside me.” 

“Hold steady, Benjamin,” Lafayette whispers, working his fingers slowly and carefully, “we do not wish for you to be injured.”

No, no he needs. He needs but Lafayette does not give. He makes Ben wait, wait while he works him slowly open around Hamilton’s cock, pausing only to add more oil to his body, his fingers, to ease the passage into him. 

He works Ben until he is all but drooling with desire upon Hamilton’s skin - he can feel his cock throbbing hard where it remains trapped between them, he can feel Hamilton’s inside him. By God, he can feel so much, it’s too much but not enough all at once and Ben needs, he needs with every inch of his being to feel it all and feel nothing.

He feels Hamilton inside him. He feels Lafayette’s fingers, he feels Washington’s eyes and Lafayette’s hand and Hamilton’s palms and Lafayette’s breath and Hamilton’s chest and Washington’s approval.

He can feel it all, like like water running down his neck, or is that sweat? 

The fingers give a gentle tug and Ben’s whimper is involuntary but magnified by the pounding in his ears. Slowly - so painfully and carefully and  _ slowly  _ \- they are replaced by the head of a second cock. 

Ben can’t breathe, he tries but all he’s met with is a rasping, wheezing sound. His entire body is consumed by the flames and surely they were wrong - surely this must not be feasible but Lafayette slips deeper and deeper inch after inch until his entire body is one, delightful throb. 

One by one parts of his mind shut down. No more does he think of war, no more does he think of the ring, no more does he think of anything but sensation. 

Feeling.

There are fingers that belong to someone bruising his skin. His hips, his thighs, his ribs - somewhere, everywhere there are hands. Ben’s cheeks are wet and he has never, in all of his life, felt so whole. 

“There, there,” comes a voice - strained - that sounds like it originates from underwater, “you have us, you have us. You have done so well, so very, very well.”

One of the cocks inside him shifts and Ben cries to the heavens. It’s so much, so much that should Hamilton move beneath him he thinks the friction against his own, aching, dripping cock would summon his end but he can’t. He can’t be finished now - they’d only just begun. 

Ben’s jaw hangs open, unsure if he is moaning or crying out as Hamilton’s hips begin to roll up beneath him. 

“I fear,” he pants, though Ben does know understand the words as they are given, “this will be a short endeavor. By God, Ben you are-” Hamilton groans and something surges deep in Ben, “-you are magnificent.” 

Ben floats between them, caught on the litany of praises, how tight, how hot, how good, how beautiful, how delicious he is - caught on the feeling, caught on the pain and the pleasure and the places where they meet to send him into oblivion, crashing over his edge and painting Hamilton's abdomen in thin white ropes. They are right, as were Bens worries, and too soon Hamilton’s hips grind deep and rough and heat floods through him - met soon by a wrecked moan behind him and the same. 

They remain, slow and careful as ever, staying there while their breath returns to them. Ben is too dazed to do anything but whimper as they withdraw - their twin releases dripping from his hole soon after.

Hamilton pants, hard and fast and asks, “Are you pleased, your Excellency?”

In his daze, in his pleasure, Ben almost forgot he was watching.

“Much so, Alexander.” His voice is low, rougher than Ben thinks he has ever heard it. Laced with such arousal and want that Ben’s overworked and very sensitive cock twitches desperately. “Gilbert, if you would?”

There must have been some gesture behind him, as Lafayette moves away and another warm, larger body takes his place. Rough hands guide his hips up and Ben doesn’t know if he can take another - a soreness and exhaustion settling into his flesh - but Washington does not push himself into Ben’s body. 

Instead, his palms fit themselves to the curve of his rear and hold him, gently, apart. It is not a treatment Ben is unused to, but not like this. Not after he’s been so thoroughly used and taken, not while he’s filled with the mess of another - and Ben’s hazy, fuzzy mind can’t convince itself that this is happening. Not even with the first, hot pass of Washington’s tongue presses against him.

It’s too much, too too much and he’s whimpering and begging and pleading a mess of  _ please, please don’t stop - it’s too much, don’t stop, don’t stop.  _ Each inhale is sharp and desperate and each exhale is a plea for more as that deft, brilliant tongue laps into him, licking the release from his hole and cleaning him out.

He wants to beg him to stop, it’s too much, it’s too degrading for Washington to do, it’s too much stimulation for his over-done body - it’s all too much but it feels so  _ good.  _

Ben hides a sob in Hamilton’s chest as a fresh wave of needy, desperate tears come for him. The man thumbs them away, peppering his cheek and the space beneath his eyes with gentle, soft kisses and caresses the side of his face. 

“You’ve done so well, you’ve done so very very well. Look at you, Benjamin, look how beautiful you are. He tastes you, he tastes us - tell me, how it makes you feel.”

“It’s so much,” he hiccups, “so good, so very good.”

It seems to be all the reassurance Washington needs, pressing impossibly deeper, hotter - each swipe of his wet tongue finding someplace new. Under the assailing, Ben’s cock begins to swell again with need - making him flush momentarily at how needy he must seem. It wouldn’t be the first time he was brought off many times by these men but each time he felt so perfectly filthy. A thin-fingered hand wraps around his cock, a thick-accented voice cooing praise in time with Washington’s tongue and, from there it does not take long for him to spend himself for a second time onto Alexander. 

He’s trembling, weak - once Washington’s strong grip slips from his body, he tumbles back down onto Alexander with a little  _ oomf _ from both of them. Ben’s eyes begin to slip shut without his consent. But Washington has not found his end. He wasn’t permitted to lay eyes upon him yet but he knows - Washington would prefer to release on him, mark him as his own. Washington grunts or groans when he comes, Ben knows, Ben committed the sound to memory the first time long ago.

He cannot fall asleep leaving his General unsatisfied - but he is so  _ sore,  _ so tired. His limbs feel distant and detached and he isn’t sure if someone asked him to raise his arms that he could. 

But his limbs move, though it could be from the heat that wraps around them. He’s moved onto his back, Alexander sitting up a little and settling Ben between his legs, holding him up. His head lolls back, nuzzling into the heat of his neck.

“May I?” A rough voice asks, and Ben doesn’t realize his eyes were closed until he opens them to see Washington - Ben’s own knees draped over one of his strong arms, pressing his thighs together. He blinks a few times, tries to think what Washington could possibly be asking for, but it clicks, when something hot and thick and hard drags along the crease of his thighs. 

Oh. Yes, yes, he may. Of course he may, his body is Washington’s to use, his body is Washington’s to  _ have.  _ He doesn’t own this body, he merely inhabits it.

Behind him, Alexander chuckles, did he say that out loud as well?

“Yes, Benjamin, you did.”

Oh.

Washington pulls a face that might be concern, but be a muted sort of affection - but he can’t tell, he’s far too tired. He straightens his back to focus on keeping his legs tight together, watching the flushed cockhead appear and disappear as Washington presses himself between them - slick with saliva and oil and semen. He wants to watch his face twist into pleasure, he wants to watch himself be owned. Marked.

And he is, after a few moments - Washington clearly rather worked up from the sight.

Ben’s legs are gently set down and rearranged, something warm and wet wipes over his abdomen. His eyes fall shut when the rag moves from his stomach to his thighs - careful and particular. Arms find his waist again, first two - and then more, and then, once the rag has vanished - he’s pulled somewhere else, against a solid, warm chest.  
  


He falls asleep, there. Safe and sated.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me @ [Tumblr](http://tooeasilyconsidered.tumblr.com/)


End file.
